History of Ibizaby Emily Kaufman The Spanish Civil War In The PitiusesPart Twelve

Hello and welcome to the history page as we take up the final thread of
our war chronicles. Our area of scrutiny this week centres on the
systematic witch-hunts that swept across the Pitiuses immediately
following the National takeover of the islands. In the space of a single
month, these midnight exterminations had become so frequent and so
despotic that even staunch National supporters decried the slaughter.
The moral objections of such eminent figures as Bishop Antoni Cardona
quickly led to the removal of the top military honcho in charge of the
newly occupied islands, Commandant Montis. That fact that Montis’ rule
lasted a mere twenty-three days (from 20th September to 13th
October) is as revealing a fact as it is chilling.

In
the words of Artur Parron, “The Majorcan troops that disembarked in
Ibiza Town on 20th September
initiated a repression that was excessively indiscriminate, bloody and
arbitrary, and in which the many Franco-friendly sectors of Ibiza and
Formentera played a leading role. This early and extrajudicial
repression was characterized by the free reign of personal vendettas,
anonymous reports, impunity toward the repressors and, above all, by the
complicity of local authorities who promoted an ethos legitimizing the
physical elimination of the enemy.” In
effect, during the initial months after the National occupation, the
ways and means of dealing with Republican supporters had not yet been
institutionalized. Its practice was therefore devoid of any legally
established guidelines that might distinguish it from, say, targeted
assassination. As a result, those who had been accused of colluding
against Franco, whether justly or unjustly were not given even the
pretence of a trial. They were simply yanked out of their beds in the
middle of the night and taken for a passejo, i.e. a walk to the
nearest cemetery. Parron writes that, “the pathways and walls of
almost all of Ibiza and Formentera’s
cemeteries witnessed daily executions” in
the final months of 1936 and well into 1937.

The Pros and Cons of Murder

Parron also includes an interesting comment on the ethical differences
between National and Republican repression tactics as these were carried
out in the Pitiuses. He argues that, while both parties were equally
guilty of gross abuse towards the civilian population, the Republican
rampages were harshly condemned, albeit posterior to the event, by the
Anti-Fascist Committee. Thus, while no less destructive, Parron claims
that the red river of blood that ran through the Pitiuses during the
summer of ’36 resulted not from any plan or design but rather from the
inability of the crumbling Republican institutions to maintain law and
order. That incidents such as the Castle Massacre were acts of
blood-thirst is undeniable. They were not, however, pre-meditated
political purgings that had been quietly thought-out and quietly
executed in the dark of night. In essence, I suppose what he is saying
is that the Republican repression was born of hot blood, while the
National repression was hatched, reptilian-style, in cold blood. Whether
the degree of redeeming value attached to one mode of conduct can be
gauged as nobler or meaner than that attached to the other is a question
I will let each reader decide for himself.

The Institutionalization of Repression

With
the arrival of Montis’ replacement, the Commandant of Infantry, Gonzalo
Arnica Ferrer, a military court was set up at the Grand Hotel, today the
Montesol. In theory, standards of morality, legality and justice were
assigned to the practices of political investigation so that only those
individuals actively engaged in subversion against the ‘New State’ were
liable to indictment. On the plus side, the implementation of a military
court added an element of local control to the issue whereby the
islands’ municipal authorities and their native law-keeping forces
collaborated in the search for transgressors. On the minus side, Ibiza
and Formentera still lived under the shadow of wartime rule, which is to
say, it was a time when rules were stretched, bent and broken with
almost total impunity – by outsiders and islanders alike.

The
local population was fully expected to collaborate with the military
court by supplying names and information and making accusations against
neighbours, acquaintances and even family members. Reportage on the
political behaviour of any and all citizens, no matter how close to the
bosom, became an act of patriotic duty. Under no circumstance was anyone
ever encouraged to mind his own business. Parron reminds us that: “Whether
passively or actively, the Pitiusan population came to witness the
repression, the arrests, the executions as a daily, almost normal
occurrence.”

Military Inquisition Leaves No Stone Unturned

Toward the end of the war, in February of 1939, the Law of Political
Responsibilities was enacted. The measure was intended as a final
clean-out of the potentially subversive elements that still remained
within Spanish society. It stipulated that not only was an individual’s
wartime behaviour subject to investigation, but that any suspicious
behaviour, attitudes or affiliations dating back to the year 1934 could
also be used as grounds for indictment. As concerns the Pitiuses
however, Ibiza and Formentera were essentially apolitical prior to the
war, so that it was not necessary to backtrack any farther than the five
weeks of Republican occupation in the summer of ’36 to trump up evidence
of subversion. Indeed, even those members of society who were publicly
known to be rightwing supporters found themselves under the iron
scrutiny of Political Responsibility.

One
such case was that of the historian-priest Isidor Macabich (1884-1973).
Because of his active participation in the unionization of workers under
the banner of the Catholic-Agrarian Federation, the Canon was accused of
working in the interests of the ‘Reds’ and was incarcerated for several
months. Fortunately, he was eventually exempt from charges and freed.
One can only shudder at what might have been our present state of
historical knowledge regarding the Pitiuses had Macabich not been
spared. His great opus, the Encyclopaedia of Ibiza and Formentera
would have never been written.

Another case of post-bellum retaliation was that levied against Miquell
Tuells, the lieutenant in charge of the small National detachment in
Formentera at the time of Bayo’s invasion. Readers will remember that
Tuells, upon seeing the vast superiority of the approaching Republican
forces, ceded Formentera without a fight. For that crime he was never
forgiven, and the lieutenant met his death in front of a firing squad.

Closing

I’ll
leave off here for this time, as usual, on a dismal note. Without trying
to sound too optimistic, next week may prove to be our final instalment
in the Civil War series. Join us then as we consider the fates of those
anti-fascist supporters who did managed to escape the islands and became
political refugees in France, Britain or Latin America. Until then,